


A Drink of Stars

by semperama



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Clothed Sex, Drunk Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8824759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperama/pseuds/semperama
Summary: “It doesn’t seem like a night for moderation.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jouissant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/gifts).



> I wrote this for Jouissant, who gave me the prompt "awkward but sweet sex". I might have dropped the ball a little on the awkward part though, whoops.

They spill into the room like they’re both drunk. Really, it’s only Nix who’s had too much—or who’s had any at all—but he may have intoxicated Dick by association given how they both weave and stumble and how Dick is throwing his head back and laughing at a joke Nix has already forgotten, exposing the column of his throat so Nix has to move in closer and taste. All he tastes is whiskey at first. Then a little salt. A little smoke from the cigarette Nix had on the way back from Carnegie Hall. Dick’s skin is somewhere underneath all that, and Nix needs to get to it, to chip away with his lips and tongue until— 

“Wait until I get the door shut,” Dick laughs. He kicks it closed behind him, hauling Nix into the room by the collar of his coat. It slams a little too hard, and Nix ends up giggling against Dick’s neck, his teeth pressed flat against Dick’s skin.

It was a long walk up to the room from the dining room. Too long. Nix has been ready to get his hands on Dick since they left the concert hall—or maybe even before that, maybe when he glanced over at Dick and saw his awed expression and the way his fingers gripped his own knees as the music swelled around them in the dark. Or maybe it was when Dick came out of the bathroom in his brand new tux, fidgeting with his bow tie and shooting pleading looks at Nix until Nix went to him and batted his hands away and finished the job for him. Dick looks like royalty in this suit. Get him a sash and a coronet and he could be a fucking prince. And Nix could be fucking a prince. The thought makes him start laughing again.

“Think you had enough to drink?” Dick asks. 

“Not my fault,” Nix slurs. He’s fascinated by the way his lips catch and drag on Dick’s skin. “You’re supposed to tell me when to quit.”

Dick gets a hand under Nix’s jacket. When did he unbutton it? The sneaky bastard. “It doesn’t seem like a night for moderation.”

“’S that so? Must’ve been why you stole the last of my ice cream.”

“You weren’t eating it.”

Nix pulls back enough to look Dick in the eye and grin carelessly at him. “I was saving room.”

That gets Dick laughing again, and Nix feels like he’s ten feet tall. Any minute now his head’s going to hit the ceiling and bust right through it. His body can’t contain all this happiness, so he’s expanding to accommodate it, and the room better damn well expand too or get out of the way.

“Alright, lover boy,” Dick says. And isn’t that something? ‘Lover boy.’ “Let’s get you undressed.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He’s already trying to shrug his way out of his jacket, but it gets caught somewhere around his elbows, and he has to push away from Dick’s warm body to struggle with it. Bad decision. He was more comfortable leaning up against Dick—and steadier too, as he proves by almost tripping over his own feet as he tries to move closer to the bed while shaking the jacket off his wrists and onto the floor.

“Won’t that wrinkle?” Dick asks. He’s looking at Nix though, and stepping forward to take him by the elbow and pull him back around. Nix resists a little, suspended between the desire to get horizontal and the desire to get close to Dick again, and then the latter wins out and he crashes into Dick mouth first, his lips finding Dick’s ear this time. Dick makes a fond, exasperated sound and gets a hand around Nix’s neck to push him away. “Lew?” he says.

“Hmm?” Nix has lost track of the question.

Dick’s eyes dance with amusement. “Let me hang up our things.”

Ever the boy scout, of course. Sex with Dick is a lot of things—good and warm and comfortable and _good_ and sometimes surprising—but it’s almost never messy. Even clothes that get discarded in a haste somehow seem to end up in one easily manageable pile that gets swept off to the hamper while Nix is still trying to figure out which way is up, before Dick comes back to the bathroom with something to clean them both up. They rarely bask in the afterglow until all bodily fluids have been removed from sight, and sometimes, if they have to get up and go back about their day, Dick will make the bed again afterward—with sharp hospital corners and pillows fluffed just so. It’s endearing, Dick’s fastidiousness. It never feels like Dick is trying to get rid of the evidence or like he’s ashamed; it’s just a personality quirk, and one more thing to love about him. 

But. _But._ Sometimes Nix craves a mess.

“Leave it,” Nix says. He kisses Dick hard, then speaks against his mouth, knowing he’ll be more persuasive that way: “Want you to leave it on.”

And, impulsively, he drops clumsily to his knees. It seems like a good idea on the way down, his head already spinning with the anticipation of undoing Dick’s fly and getting his mouth on him while he’s still dressed to the nines, but once he gets down there he finds that his head is spinning still but for all the wrong reasons, and the floor is tilting, and he wonders how many drinks he actually had. It’s too much work to get up again, so he rests his forehead carefully against Dick’s thigh and breathes until the soft fabric grows warm and damp under his cheek and Dick is gripping his shoulders.

“Just give me a sec,” he mumbles.

“Come here,” Dick says, stroking cool, dry fingers down the side of Nix’s face.

Nix shakes his head a little, the wool a little scratchy under his cheek. Or maybe it’s his cheek that’s scratchy. “I’m not gonna be sick.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

He was thinking it though, Nix knows. He can read Dick’s mind—picked up that little skill during the war. 

“Maybe we should just—?”

Nix grunts, cutting Dick off, and inches his face across Dick’s thigh until he finds the hot, unyielding length of him and opens his mouth over it. Dick makes a shocked sound. He always does. Every single time, he sounds shocked, like he didn’t know his body was capable of bringing him any kind of pleasure or like he’s surprised at himself for enjoying it, and Nix loves it, _loves_ it. The sounds Dick makes are gifts. They’re signs of trust. Nix sneaks his tongue out to press against Dick through the fabric so he can hear a few more, and so he can start in on his task of getting Dick a little messy, putting dark wet spots in the front of these brand new suit pants that Nix only convinced him to buy after a long hard battle. ‘You can’t go see the Philharmonic in the suit you wear to work, Dick.’ Well, maybe he could have, but Nix wanted to see him in a tux, and when he really puts his mind to something, he gets his way. Dick is stubborn, but not _as_ stubborn. Not usually.

“Come here, Lewis,” Dick says again. This time he gets a hand under Nix’s arm and presses, which makes Nix wince and reluctantly claw his way back up Dick’s body, leaving a trail of wrinkles in his wake. Dick is flushed and his mouth is shiny, so Nix leans in and kisses him again, staving off the inevitable lecture about how they should just go to bed. Nix doesn’t want the night to end yet, and he doesn’t think Dick does either.

But to his surprise, when they break apart, Dick says, “Get on the bed.”

It might still be a prelude to coaxing him to sleep, but Nix doesn’t want to be on his feet anymore anyway. Liquor has made him feel sloshy, like he’s being buffeted by waves. He’ll let them sweep him away, he thinks, as long as Dick comes with him.

He lets his eyes fall shut as he flops onto the bed and stretches out on his back, and when he opens them again, Dick is picking apart his own tie. “Hey,” he says.

“Just the tie,” Dick says. “That’s it.”

Alright, the tie he can live with. Dick doesn’t even take it all the way off, just unties it and lets the loose ends hang around his neck, all the better for Nix to grab them when Dick climbs onto the bed and reel him in for another kiss. He can feel his own lack of finesse, but he can’t seem to get his brain to tell his mouth to move more carefully—and anyway, Dick is adapting, letting Nix suck on his tongue and lick around the ridges of his teeth and swallowing every needy sound he makes and giving back some of his own.

“So you liked it?” Nix asks impulsively, between kisses. “The symphony?”

“Loved it.” Dick drops his head and tilts Nix’s chin back so he can kiss down his neck. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” It was worth it for the way Dick’s mouth had fallen open as the music swelled, the way he had turned his head and caught Nix’s eye and smiled at him, so happy and genuine that Nix wants to spend the rest of his life trying to make Dick smile that way again as often as possible. It was worth it for the way Dick had watched him from across the table at dinner and didn’t look concerned when Nix kept ordering drinks, because yeah, this isn’t a night for moderation. Not in anything. 

“Don’t thank you?” Dick asks, lifting his head and grinning down at Nix. “Are you sure about that?” His hands slide up the outside of Nix’s thighs like a suggestion.

Nix laughs and squeezes his eyes shut so the room doesn’t spin quite so hard. “Oh, alright. If you insist.”

It isn’t until Dick’s hand finds its way between his legs that they both realize the thing that shouldn’t be a surprise to either of them: Nix isn’t exactly at his most potent. It should be a disappointment, but Nix is too far gone to do anything but laugh even harder, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, either from mirth or embarrassment, he can’t tell. Dick joins in, but his chuckle sounds more nervous than amused, and oh no, Nix has to put a stop to that immediately. 

Using what may well be the last of his strength and definitely is the last of his sense of balance, he surges up off the bed and pushes Dick onto his back. Dick looks up at him, shocked, and Nix has to fall to his elbows and put his head on Dick’s chest to stave off the surge of vertigo and wait for his stomach to calm down again. 

“Nix,” Dick says quietly. 

“Shh,” Nix answers. Just a few more seconds. A few more seconds and then— “I have an idea.”

He manages to get Dick’s fly open this time. Dick makes a token sound of protest and tries to still Nix’s fingers, but Nix grabs his hands, pushes them into his stomach, and makes him keep them there. Dick was probably right before, it’s probably not smart for him to test his gag reflex right now, but there are other ways he can apply his mouth. He reaches under Dick’s hips and drags his pants and shorts down at the same time he pushes Dick’s knees toward his chest.

If anyone asked him, he’d say the only reason he hasn’t done this yet is he didn’t think Dick would go for it, but he’d have been proved a liar after the first touch of his tongue to Dick’s skin, when Dick gasps and curls his hands into the sheets and tucks his knees closer to his torso to give Nix better access. The truth is, it’s not Dick who has been keeping him from anything. Nix has never been sure he’d like this himself, and it’s taken him getting good and soused to work up the bravery. His cheeks are blazing as he kisses his way up the back of one of Dick’s thighs and then licks his way back down and presses the flat of his tongue against Dick’s hole. Dick makes a pained sound, like he’s been shot, and, emboldened, Nix licks him again and again and again, closes his eyes and stretches out flat on his stomach and thinks about how he kissed Dick earlier, sloppy and wet and careless, and imitates that now, here. 

“What are you—?” Dick gasps, as if Nix hasn’t been doing it for a minute or two. It takes a few seconds for Nix to drag himself away and look up at Dick, at his scarlet face and his bitten-red lips. He makes a picture like this, still in his suit with his shirt wrinkled and his pants around his knees. His upper lip shines with sweat, and Nix would go up there and kiss him if it wouldn’t mean he has to give up his task.

“Do you like it?” Nix says, the words slurred together both by drunkenness and shyness. Rather than answering, Dick threads his fingers through Nix’s hair, and Nix knows that’s answer enough.

“You don’t have to,” Dick says as an afterthought. But by then Nix’s mouth is too busy to answer.

After all, he wanted to get Dick a little messy, and this seems like a good way to do it. He spreads Dick wider so he can get as much of his mouth in there as possible, kiss open-mouthed right over his hole and get him spit-slick enough that maybe, if his own cock was cooperating, he’d be able to slip right inside without anything else to ease the way. Fascinated, he runs a finger up through the wetness and then pushes in, just shallowly, just enough to hear Dick let out a shaky, ragged breath that is just about as close to _please_ as he ever gets. Nix takes the finger away and replaces it with his tongue, managing to wriggle past the rim a little and groaning low as he feels Dick clench around him like he wants to draw him deeper. 

“Lewis,” Dick hisses, and Nix groans again and, impossibly, his cock twitches. Maybe he’ll get hard after all. Maybe Dick is an impressive enough force to sober him up on the spot.

He _wishes_ he was sober, suddenly. Yes, maybe alcohol and overwhelming happiness gave him the courage to do this in the first place, but all he can’t taste anything and his face is numb. He feels like he’s drooling all over the bed, his shirt, but he’s too far gone to care, too single-minded to do anything other than try to lick his way inside Dick so he can taste and feel more of him, all of him. The sounds Dick is making are coming at him as if through layers of cotton, and he wants to fuck him so badly, to be up there where he can kiss him and cradle his face in his hands and push into the grasping heat of him. 

But then Dick’s fingers find his hair again, and he grips him tight, and he gasps out something that sounds like _”yes”_ , and Nix’s head fills with fireworks that pop and crackle all the way down his spine. He reaches around and curls his fingers around Dick’s cock, and he doesn’t even get through one full stroke, his tongue still laving over Dick’s hole, before Dick cries out and spills over Nix’s fingers. And that, somehow, is the most beautiful thing that has happened yet. Nix got Dick into a tux and coaxed him into sitting through an hour of classical music, but this is his crowning achievement, making Dick shout and make a mess all over his nice new shirt, leaving him boneless and panting as Nix crawls up his body and kisses his mouth.

Nix’s head is spinning again. He’s pressed chest to chest with dick which means both of their suits may well be ruined. In a few minutes, he thinks he’ll have to get up and dash for the bathroom. But right now, none of it matters, because Dick is grinning up at him, and then chuckling, and then laughing outright. He hooks his hand around the back of Nix’s neck and says, “You’re something else, you know that?” And then he drags him in for another kiss, even though he has to be able to taste himself there on Nix’s slick and swollen mouth. 

_I’m a mess, is what I am_ , Nix thinks. But as long as Dick keeps smiling at him that way, it doesn’t matter.


End file.
